Georgiana's Heart
by sbarra
Summary: Miss Georgiana Darcy of Pemberley is rescued from a shipwreck by young Sir Thomas Bertram from Mansfield Park. He's too ashamed of his recent past to reveal his true identity, however. This is a Regency 'What If' that won't leave my imagination alone! Elizabeth/Darcy; Georgiana/Tom
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

The massive waves crashed against the hull of the tall ship and over the creaking deck. The sailors scurried from their posts, many ducking for cover. A jagged streak of lightning cracked the dark sky, the stars no longer sparkling. Each wooden board creaked and strained against the pressure of hundreds of gallons of water.

Down below, in their small cabin, Georgiana and Mrs Annesley clutched each other as if for dear life. The elderly governess hummed and stroked her young charge's hair. Georgiana felt fifteen again when she had weathered a very different storm. A sudden pounding on the door was the only thing more jolting than the peals of thunder and lightning.

Mrs Annesley tied a blanket firmly around Georgiana's trembling shoulders. She then whispered reassuringly before unsteadily plotting a course to the cabin's narrow door, the candle blowing out as she reached it.

"Mr Whitely!" Mrs Annesley cooed in delight, relieved that Colonel Fitzwilliam's friend, their guide during their French sojourn, had come to reassure Georgiana.

"Miss Darcy! Mrs Annesley! You must come to the life boats at once!" Whitely bellowed over the gale force wind.

Mrs Annesley turned to help Georgiana to her feet. "How far are we from land?" she asked, feeling sure that the ship had tossed and pitched enough to take them from Normandy to Dover.

"We're close to the Island of Jersey," Whitely mumbled, worriedly surveying Miss Darcy's want of colour. "Please hurry, ladies, she's taking on water!"

They made their way to the deck, Whitely apologising for his lack of propriety in having to steady Georgiana upon the ladder. They were struck by the cacophony of panicked orders, bustling sailors and fierce winds. Rain stung their skin as the blanket held over Georgiana and her companion blew away. Mrs Annesley was relieved at having insisted on her young charge remaining dressed after supper. She was, however, still fearful of Georgiana catching her death of cold as they crossed the Channel in the open boats.

They made it to the edge of the quarterdeck, where a lifeboat was being prepared to be lowered into the crashing waves. Several ladies and children were already being seated. Mrs Annesley urged Georgiana forward, speaking as calmly as she could to her frightened friend.

"Hands needed to row!" a boatswain called at the huddled mass of gentlemen awaiting their own rescue from the sinking ship.

Several gentlemen, most far more accustomed to strolling in Vauxhall Gardens, ran through the pelting rain to take up the oars.

Georgiana gasped both for breath and out of shock as they were treated most roughly by those who should have known better. They were squashed into the middle of the small seat, while the gentlemen clambered to take control of the straining vessel.

Georgiana closed her eyes and clung to Mrs Annesley's hand, her glove proving very slippery indeed. The waves tossed the lifeboat from side to side, and it was hard to tell in which direction they were headed. Even when the rain subsided for short periods, the moon was still obscured by dark clouds.

There were shouts from behind and Georgiana strained to see what calamity had befallen the ship. Over the thunder, lightning and rain, it was difficult to tell what was real or imagined. Had the ship sunk? Were the hands all lost? Georgiana prayed for their souls, wishing that this was merely a nightmare from which she could awaken. She closed her eyes tightly and tried to wish herself back at Pemberley, safe within her brother's arms or tucked into bed beside Elizabeth and her small nephew.

Mrs Annesley's humming intensified, the lady seemingly wanted to drown out the panicked shouts and fearsome storm. Unfortunately, Georgiana was suddenly ripped from this caring embrace. A lightning strike hit one of the oarsmen and caused the lifeboat to be torn asunder. People toppled into the raging waters in their panic. Mrs Annesley let go of Georgiana and began to bail the water out of their end of the lifeboat with her small hands. Georgiana and a portly gentleman did the same, but it was futile. The lifeboat was sinking and it was futile to pretend otherwise.

They soon found themselves treading water and trying to stay afloat by holding on to jagged pieces of driftwood. The frigid waters swirled around Georgiana and she worried that she was too far away from Mrs Annesley. It was then that the oar of another lifeboat struck her. Although, she did not realise this at the time. All Georgiana felt was the sudden pain and then the feeling that she was falling. Salt water rushed down her throat, choking her. She tried to hold her breath, as Will had once shown her in the lake at Pemberley. Down, down she plummeted, struggling against the cold, dark water, but it overwhelmed her. Georgiana's fine dress weighed her down. Her lungs felt like they would burst. Her head throbbed.

Through the sheets of blinding rain, a young gentleman who had felt beyond redemption saw her fall. He had spent most of the journey in the privacy of his cabin and knew not who the pretty, blonde lady was. But he could not let her drown. The gentlemen ignored the selfish cries of protest around him and dived into the raging sea.

Georgiana wondered if she had lost all of her senses when she saw a young gentlemen swimming towards her. Perhaps, her mind was playing tricks on her. She mourned for how upset Will and the Colonel would be over her demise. Surely, she should have stayed at Pemberley and cooed over her nephew, instead of feeling so unnecessarily excluded by Elizabeth and her brother's 'new family'. How spoilt she had been!

Suddenly strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her towards the surface of the black tempest. Forgetting decorum, she clung to him. The gentleman kicked hard against the water, dragging her up. They broke through the surface and Georgiana spluttered, choking on the salty water burning her throat.

"Can you swim?" the gentleman asked breathlessly.

"No," she managed to gasp, panicking as each wave swelled around them.

"Hold onto my side," he grunted and then began to struggle towards a rocky shore that she could barely make out in the distance.

Georgiana tried to help him paddle, but soon realised that her efforts made it more difficult for him to keep his grasp on her shivering body. She surrendered to his will as he navigated the treacherous waters. The gentleman was relieved when she relaxed against him and he was soon carrying her to the safety of the island.

"We cannot formally be introduced," the gentleman said awkwardly.

She naively looked around for Mrs Annesley or Mr Whitely and was all the more saddened to see that the small stretch of beach was deserted. "Uh, I... I am... Miss... Georgiana... Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire..."

He carried her towards a small copse of trees, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Darcy. My name is... Tom..." he hesitated, too ashamed of the murky business he had conducted in France to even tell her his full name or his title, let alone list his land holdings.

Georgiana was surprised that a man of low fortune and rank had been so brave in rescuing a drowning woman. She always imagined men who were the antipathy of her brother or cousin in wealth would not hold such high morals.

"Well, thank you, uh, Mr Tom..." she stuttered shyly, as he gently sat her beside a tree trunk. Her teeth chattered and he immediately began to gather kindling to make a fire. She watched him work and then worked up the courage to say more. "My brother will amply reward you for my safe return."

Sir Thomas Bertram's piercing blue eyes darted up to look at her pallid face. "I have sisters and cousins your age, Miss Darcy. You needn't fear me."

Georgiana burst in to tears. He had completely mistaken her meaning. How hard it was to talk to men with whom one had such little acquaintance, no matter what their status! He immediately apologised and then worked all the more to start a fire, telling her that it would warm them and be a signal to other survivors or passing ships. It smoked a great deal, the wood still being too damp to be of much good.

Georgiana's eyes stung all the more. She sobbed for Mrs Annesley and her family. Strong arms encircled and rocked her. Georgiana protested about propriety at first, but exhaustion overwhelmed her. She did not know that the hands that smoothed her hair belonged to the new owner of Mansfield Park in Northamptonshire. Georgiana had no clue that the man who whispered kind words to her held a house two miles from her brother's house in London. She slept without knowing why he had snapped at her or withheld his surname. The gentleman, Sir Thomas Bertram, had made a deal with 'the devil' to increase the profits of his sugar plantations in Antigua.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Georgiana woke up and shielded her eyes from the bright sun dawning on the horizon. She glanced around and saw her coat hanging on a piece of yarn suspended between two thick branches. Shock at not being in her bedroom gave way to the gnawing dread that she was now stranded on an island with some man named… what was his name? Tom.

A stranger called Tom was all that stood between her and desolation. Mrs Annesley was… well, hopefully stranded somewhere nearby, she tried to reassure herself. Will, the Colonel, Elizabeth – they were hundreds of sea miles away. Georgiana tried to steel herself- tried not to feel lonely and hurt and forlorn. She told herself that she would need to be brave. At least this Tom fellow had not been some wretched libertine – more brotherly than rakish. She wondered if he had sisters. She reached for her slightly damp coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Startled by a sudden gun-shot, Georgiana cried out in alarm and then ducked down beside the shrubs on the edge of the beach. Her breath came in ragged gasps – the sound of running steps made her heart gallop in her throat. Tom rushed up to where she had been sleeping – triumphantly holding aloft some game. His apology for not warning her of his hunting trip died on his lips.

Georgiana – her nerves frayed – flew at him pummelling his chest with her small fists. He dropped the bird on the sand behind her and wrapped his arms around her – trying to soothe her through kind words and reassuring pats on the back. This brotherly affection reminded her so much of Will that rather than being of comfort, it made her feel all the more dislocated from her family.

Thinking that he had offended her delicate sensibilities and worried that he had given her the wrong impression about his intentions, Tom took a few steps back and explained that he would prepare some food for them. He turned to go and collect kindling for the fire and tried, somewhat successfully to pluck the bird's stiff feathers. His education at Eton and Oxford had done little to prepare him for surviving on a deserted Chanel island.

"Why didn't you catch a fish?" Georgiana asked, surprised by her own boldness.

"I found the gun in a trunk on the shore," Tom replied and she was relieved that he did not seem offended by the way in which she had asked her question. She supposed that he was used to taking orders from ladies such as herself. Perhaps he was a valet – he did not seem to be a yeoman. "Haven't found any fishing gear as of yet, Miss…"

"Miss Darcy," Georgiana reminded him and then asked, "You didn't mention where you were from?"

"Northamptonshire," he said dismissively and then changed the subject. I shall look for more trunks after breakfast."

"May I be of assistance, Tom," Georgiana asked. Tom was going to refuse this request. He feared that bodies from the shipwreck may also be washed ashore and that she may become hysterical once more. Seeing the glint of hope in her eyes – knowing that she wanted to search the short coastline for survivors – made him hesitate.

"It may not all be good news, Miss Darcy," he ventured, cutting a chunk of the bird's flesh with his jagged pocket-knife.

Georgiana looked away – gazing into the small fire that he had kindled. "My sister-in-law, Elizabeth, always says that industry is important in times of worry."

"We shall set out after we eat. She sounds like a wise woman," Tom replied, skewering the meat on a stick and holding it over the smoking flames.

"She is," Georgiana agreed, with a far-off look. "I… I'm afraid that it was a lot to get used to. My brother was… was so different after they married."

Tom vaguely remembered gossip in the Ton about Mr Darcy of Pemberley marrying a lady with few connections. "She is wise, but not always to everyone's taste?" he wondered aloud, realising that Miss Darcy was not used to expressing her opinions in a forthright manner.

"Oh, she is lovely," Georgiana replied at once. "Witty, clever, funny, pretty… I'm afraid… I'm afraid that I… that I insisted on travelling with my companion to…. To put some distance between us. She… she's everything I'm not… She's able to make my brother happy and… I… I realised that I had failed to do so… I felt like a burden and I wanted to escape… to travel… to…" The words tumbled out of the tumult in Georgiana's heart and Tom listened patiently. Tears then welled in Georgiana's eyes.

Tom handed her his handkerchief, "I know with my sisters, that they worry far more about my own feelings than I ever do. It's different for men. I fear that ladies spend so much time with four walls pressing around them – they worry, I know my mother does, and my sister, Julia, too, often have fears that are quite unfounded."

Tom was relieved that Miss Darcy did not know his identity – imagine her reaction to realising that his other sister, Maria, had been infamously divorced for adultery by Mr James Rushworth of Sotherton Court, Northamptonshire. For the time being, she seemed care-worn but willing to accept his help until they were rescued. He would have to be content with that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Georgiana was amazed at how calm the deep blue sea was as she followed Tom along the sandy shore. Every now and then they found a battered plank or on one occasion a sodden doll – its china eyes seemed to stare up at them in astonishment at its fate. Tom tried to keep her mind off of fear for Mrs Annesely, Mr. Whitely and the other passengers by talking of their 'rescue'.

"Pardon," Georgiana said – his words lost on the breeze as she hurried to keep up.

Tom slowed his steps and offered her the flask of water he had found in the gun crate. "I climbed up to the peak this morning. There was an abandoned canon battery up there. We're lucky to be stranded here after Waterloo!"

"Certainly," Georgiana replied quietly. "We wouldn't want some Frenchmen thinking that we were spies."

Tom chuckled and then realised that she was very much in earnest. He apologised knowing that he had touched a raw nerve. Perhaps she had lost a beau in the Napoleonic Wars.

"I… I… my brother practically raised me and… we… I quarrelled. When I was sixteen, seventeen… I wanted to go on my European tour. I had read Father's books on Paris until the pages almost fell out. Then when my sister-in-law's time of confinement ended…and my nephew was a strong, healthy baby, well, Will…my brother suddenly decided that perhaps he should let me go…"

Tom offered her the water flask again, "You felt like your brother was sending you away. Like he had his new child to care for, so you were no longer needed?"

Georgiana nodded, relieved that he understood.

"Perhaps," Tom said, offering her his arm as they began an ascent around a crop of rocks, "perhaps, Mr Darcy was not rejecting you at all. Perhaps, rather, knowing that Napoleon was now imprisoned at Saint Helena, he felt it was time to let you have your wish. Paris has many beautiful landmarks, art galleries and fashionable districts. Maybe he was simply acknowledging that he could trust you on your own…. Well, with your companion and the gentleman you mentioned."

"It… it was an eighteenth birthday present," Georgiana replied, brightening. "Perhaps he was… letting me see a bit more of the world."

Tom smiled, but his face fell as they saw a group of men – their clothes ragged, hauling trunks out of the sea up ahead. The ragtag bunch of men looked like stranded sailors and he could not see an officer among them. Georgiana's eyes widened in fright at the swearing and squabbling she could hear – even from this distance. They seemed to all want to claim a barrel of rum that was being heaved by several younger lads towards them.

"Miss Darcy," Tom said softly, glancing at her and trying to appear calm. "To guard your honour, we must perpetuate a ruse. We must pretend to be husband and wife." Georgiana began to protest but Tom rushed on. "We must pretend, so that these men do not try to harm you or demand a ransom for you. Do you understand?

Georgiana's next thought was of Wickham – happy when she was merely fifteen to deceive her into thinking she was in love – merely to claim her dowry of thirty thousand pounds.

Tom was perplexed by the look of revulsion on her face. "I will not take any liberties, madam," he said at once. "I merely wish to preserve your dignity and keep you safe."

"Oh, I know you are not a rake!" Georgiana protested, but he hushed her – worried that the sailors who were now rushing towards the lady and gentleman would hear her.

"Our names are Tom and Georgie Price," he said quickly.

"Price?" Georgiana repeated.

"It is one of my uncle's names," Tom said at once. "My cousin William is a naval lieutenant."

"Oh," Georgiana replied, "I shall endeavour to…"

Tom cut her off, "Try not to speak too much, Georgie Price. We don't want to appear to be from the upper ranks of society."

Georgiana looked from his loosened cravat to her stained dress, hoping for once in her life, that she looked less than perfect.

"Oi! Where you from?" The larger of the men shouted as the group of rough men drew near.

"Portsmouth," Tom said. "This is me wife, Georgie. I'm Tom. Tom Price. Yer might know me uncle. He were a lieutenant in the Marines…"

"Aye," one of the other men called. "He were struck off the list, weren't he?"

"Aye," Tom copied the second man, but addressed the first. "Drowns his sorrows now – his leg still pains him."

The other sailors looked to their burly leader. After a moment, he seemed to accept the story, but he asked a few more questions, just to be sure.

"Whatd'ya do for a crust?" he barked.

Tom shrugged casually, trying to imitate the slumped, casual posture of the other men. "I'm a merchant. Not doin' too well – as you can tell – storms keep tippin' my cargo into the drink."

This was greeted by raucous laughter and several of the men stepped forward to slap Tom on the back.

"Why yer got your Mrs with yer?" one of the lads asked. "My old man would do anythin' to get some peace from me Ma!"

"If your Ma looked like that, then your Da would be happy to take her a'boat!" another man called and they all laughed loudly and made several lewd comments about 'bits of muslin'.

Georgiana was relieved when Tom protectively wrapped an arm around her back. She seemed to have been marked off as his possession – a thought that would have shocked her if the alternative had not been so much worse!

"Me name's Sturt," the larger man said. "We's buildin' a shelter! All hands needed – so kiss your Mrs goodbye."

Georgiana blushed furiously; this command was greeted with more laughter, whistling and obscene comments. Tom imitated their chuckles and then steered Georgiana over to a copse of trees. She reluctantly sat on the shaded log that he pointed out. His lips brushed her cheek as he whispered that he would keep her safe. Georgiana tried to look grateful but worry swirled within the pit of her stomach.

"Don't leave my sight," Tom repeated.

Georgiana nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. She rubbed her hands over the soft fabric of her dress as she watched Tom join the group hauling planks over to a large tree to begin making a shelter. Others seemed to be making a signal fire and Georgiana prayed that they would soon by rescued.

Georgiana tried to think of Mrs Annesley reading poetry to her, Will listening to her play on the piano forte, Elizabeth cooing over baby Horatio as they dressed him – but all she could think of was the proximity of a large group of foul-mouthed sailors with rum on their breath and lust in their hearts.

After awhile Tom returned with a small sack. He sat down on the log beside her, talking reassuringly as he handed her a piece of stale bread and a flask of wine. Georgiana insisted that he eat when she saw that he was worriedly studying her pale face. Knowing she needed work to do – and time away from the other castaways – he told Sturt that they needed to comb the beach for any belongings that would be of use. Sturt grunted his agreement and two lads were sent with them to help them haul back anything of use. Tom handed Georgiana a crumpled tri-corn hat and she was relieved to not have the midday sun burning her cheeks.

Tom directed the boys to gather the blankets, flasks of fresh water and a few crates of salted meat back towards the sailor's camp. Georgiana was uneasy when she realised that Tom had hidden the gun from the others. She could not object – even if she had felt bold enough to do so - he clearly wanted to protect her.

"The Navy sends ships through quite often, Georgie," Tom told her quietly. "To make sure that no French rebels are trying to hold out."

"But Waterloo was months ago," Georgiana whispered, fearing that they would be stranded for months on whatever English Channel island they had landed on.

"We shall be fine," he replied and then added, "I promise."

Birds cawed above them as they followed the boys back to the sailor's camp. Tom tightened his grip on her arm – wanting her to feel safe – wanting her to trust him.

As the sun set over the horizon, Georgiana and Tom settled into what Sturt called the 'guest quarters'. Tom kept a close watch on her, telling her quietly that even if she needed to use 'the privy' that she must wake him. Georgiana shuddered at the thought of having to use a hole instead of a water closet.

However, after sleeping fitfully for a few hours, she was relieved that Tom accompanied her past the melee of drunken, fighting sailors to relieve her bladder. Tom placed the lantern on a tree branch – pointed out where she would need to 'spend a penny' and then waited at a courteous distance. Georgiana was soon rushing back to his side, the lantern bobbing through the trees.

When they reached their 'quarters' – a few blankets below hastily nailed planks – Georgiana was relieved that none of the sailors had accosted them. Tom sat down first and smoothed out a blanket for her – helping her to sit down somewhat gracefully despite her skirts. He looked out at the quarter moon, listened to the waves lapping at the shore and resumed his vigil – keeping a wary eye on the sailors sitting around the nearby fire. He relaxed a little as the rum-fuelled fights ended and most of them began snoring as they slept off the strong drink.

He thought briefly of how many barrels of rum his estates in Antigua sold as by-products of his slave-worked sugar factories. Guilt began to overwhelm him and he was happy to have his reverie interrupted by Georgiana needing to be comforted. Stretching out, he lay down beside her. He tucked the blanket around her and reached for her, pulling her into his side. She fell asleep on his arm, her fingers clutching the blanket, her pretty blonde hair brushing against his cheek as he slowly relaxed beside her.


End file.
